


Control

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-21
Updated: 2005-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Nothing in her demeanor indicated the intense nervousness she felt as she walked among humans for the first time.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

Helo stared at the sheet of paper in his hands. _Well, crap_, he thought, reading again the words that delayed his reassignment to a fighting wing, however much a misnomer that might be. _Guess accepting base housing wasn't such a bad idea, after all._ His temporary assignment to Fleet Headquarters had been for only a week, pending the expected opening of a more permanent berth aboard a battlestar, but those who had been at FHQ longer had told him a furnished apartment on base was a much better choice than a hotel room. He hadn't believed it when they'd told him that no one "temporarily" assigned here ever moved on in under two months.

He thought he had beaten the odds when, after only ten days, he had been scheduled to leave the next morning for Caprica City and a week of leave before reporting to the _Galactica_, but now it seemed he would remain at FHQ for a while longer. Even his leave had been canceled; "disappointment" didn't begin to cover what he felt just then. His new orders not only delayed a long-overdue visit with his sister and nephew, but also kept him behind a frakking desk instead of flying, where he belonged.

Rather than crumpling the offending piece of paper into a ball, Helo carefully folded it and returned it to its protective envelope before hiding it away inside a desk drawer, where he wouldn't have to look at it. He glared at the stacks of paperwork on his desk – duty rosters to enter and applications for flight school for which he had the grand duty of verifying references and recommendations.

A glance at the clock told him that it was late enough that he could leave for lunch without anyone getting too upset about his absence. He'd have to check in with Captain Aronson before he left, but it shouldn't be a problem.

All he wanted was to fly. Was that too great a favor to ask of the gods?

Frak.

***

Prowling the crowded square, only a little less edgy than he had been an hour ago, Helo couldn't help but notice her. Tall and blonde, slender and sexy, she made her way through the market as though she owned it.

His eyes followed the vision in red; he couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. By the time he'd memorized every curve as she walked away, he realized that he had stopped dead in the middle of the crowded shopping zone and that she, too, had stopped. Had, in fact, turned to stare at him, a small, knowing smile playing about her mouth. Caught, Helo grinned at her and winked, well aware that he looked as good in his blues as she did in that red dress.

Hazel eyes met ice blue and her smile widened. It was a predatory thing that sent a shock of heat straight to his groin. The tip of her tongue caressed her blood red lips as she studied him in turn. She took a step toward him, another, as he waited for her to come to him. When mere centimeters remained between them, she paused, the crowd that swirled around them creating a bubble that included only Helo and this... dream. She was close enough that a stray strand of white-blonde hair, seized by the light breeze that danced and played in the market square, tickled his cheek.

She took a half step back and her intense gaze traveled over him. "Are you alive?" she breathed, gliding graceful fingers over his skin, from brow to lips, over his chin and throat, only stopping when she met the interference of his suddenly too-tight collar. Electricity accompanied the butterfly touch.

Intrigued, Helo played along with whatever her game was, all thought of returning to his desk and its stacks of paper driven away by the burn of her presence. "You tell me." His voice sounded thick, deeper than its usual timbre.

With a tilt of her head that was a challenge and a look in her exquisite eyes that was pure invitation, she turned, the light touch of her fingers lingering along his jaw as she slid into an alley between two shops and into the deserted loading zone beyond. In a haze of desire, he followed.

The afternoon was looking up.

***

Nothing in her demeanor indicated the intense nervousness she felt as she walked among humans for the first time. She _had_ interacted with a human once before, one on one, but never had she been near them in such numbers and never working toward the final goal. That previous encounter had been practice; now, though… As the humans would say, now she played for keeps.

She saw him on the edge of the square, obviously killing time, idly looking into shop windows and then moving on to the next, aimless, pointless. He wore the dark blue uniform of an officer in the Colonial Fleet and that was just what she wanted, a human male who could get her into the nearby Fleet Headquarters, one who could hopefully be blinded by the lust to which all men were prone, allowing her to gain access to the more sensitive areas of the humans' greatest military installation.

As she drew near, he caught sight of her reflection in a pane of glass and turned. Once his eyes found her, they didn't let go and her opinion of the male of the species was validated. She smiled at him, studied him. He was a handsome specimen, tall and solid, beautiful in his flawed humanity.

There was nothing in her instructions that said she shouldn't enjoy her mission…

He stared at her openly as he waited for her to come to him, allowed his eyes to roam over her body as she approached, just as hers roamed his. She stopped only when she was close enough to feel the heat that radiated from him. Reaching up to touch him, wanting to taste him, to feel his vitality, she asked, "Are you alive?"

His eyes dropped to her mouth. "You tell me." His voice was deep and intimate and a frisson of hunger sped through her.

She smiled. Turned. Slipped into the space between two buildings, confident that he would follow. She wanted him and had every intention of taking what she wanted.

_And so it begins…_

***

Helo whistled as he cooked. The meal was nothing fancy, nothing that could really be called "cooking," for that matter, just combining ingredients from a box, but it smelled good and _she_ would be here any minute. _Natasi Erinys._ The name was as exotic as the woman herself. He poured a bit of beer into the pan with a flourish, then downed the rest of the bottle.

Tossing the empty container into the recycler, he noticed the light on his phone blinking and recalled that he had turned off the audible alarm a couple of days ago, following a Fleet social function and an officer's wife who wouldn't take no for an answer, who had somehow gotten his number. With a quick glance at the caller display, he stabbed the accept and grinned at his sister.

"Daphne! Sorry about the change in plans…" He opened the refrigerator door to grab another beer.

_"You're in a much better mood than when you first called,"_ she observed. _"What're you cooking?"_

"Nothing much. I can't talk long; I'm expecting a dinner guest."

_"In other words, you have a date."_

"I do."

_"Is she pretty?"_

"Of course." Helo shot her a look that spoke volumes and she laughed, making him wish yet again that he could be on Caprica with her and Jason. Daphne's husband had died over a year ago and she swore that Jason's Uncle Karl – Helo to the rest of the worlds – was the only father the boy wanted. It made him feel a little strange, that someone so young and… unformed would so look up to him. He glanced somewhat guiltily at the beer in his hand and set it on the counter.

_"I don't know why I even asked,"_ Daphne was saying, still smiling. _"How about smart? Funny?"_

Thinking about the afternoon, the alley, the things he and Natasi had done… He felt himself blush and hoped that the fuzzy picture on the screen would hide it from his too-sharp sister. "Let's just go with 'intense.'"

_"Long-term relationship?"_

Helo shot her an amused look. "That would be a no. Are you still trying to get me married off?"

She laughed again, the sound merry. _"Would it work if I did?"_

"Again, that would be a no." He gave the concoction in the pan another stir and glanced up at the clock. Natasi was late, but not _too_ late, not yet. He had given her name and description to security and they had told him they'd let her through, but still…

_"I know a really sweet girl I could introduce you to, when you finally get to visit us…"_ Daphne wheedled.

"I know plenty of really sweet girls, Daph. I really don't need your help." Helo loved his big sister dearly, but sometimes she was just a pain in the ass.

A buzz sounded throughout the small apartment and he thanked the gods for their merciful intervention. "That'll be Natasi. I'll let you know if I'm granted leave again anytime soon."

_"I don't know, Karl… Cyrene's really nice. I think you'd like her."_

"I have to go," he said aloud, but continued in his head, _because I have sex on high heels waiting at the door._ He didn't think his sister would really appreciate that sentiment.

_"How long until your reassignment?"_

"Three months." The buzzer again clamored for his attention. "Daph, I really have to go."

She sighed. _"All right. I love you, Karl."_

"I love you, too, Daphne. Say hi to Jase for me."

He cut the connection and hurried to open the door.

***

She waited impatiently for him to let her in. She cared nothing about sharing a meal with him; she only wanted two things. For the long term, she wanted access to the defense systems of the Colonial Fleet, something she felt that she could obtain from this Colonial officer, if she played him properly. For the short term…

For the short term, she wanted her body to sing as it had that afternoon, solely because of this man, this human. Helo. She wanted to feel him inside her and she was certain that she could obtain _that_.

She didn't understand why he would name himself "Karl Agathon" and yet ask her to call him "Helo," but then there were many things about humans that she didn't understand. It didn't matter. He could call himself whatever he liked, so long as he gave her what she wanted.

About to press the button for the third time, the door opened and he was there. He grinned at her and there was a kind of innocence in that smile. "Natasi. Sorry about that." He stood aside, opened the door wider so that she could pass. "My sister called and then wouldn't let me go."

Her eyes drank in the width of his shoulders, the muscles of his arms, exposed by the short-sleeved shirt that he wore, traveled over his chest and abdomen as she recalled the feel of the body that was hidden by the concealing fabric. She smiled, slipped past him into the apartment as he said, "I thought you might have changed your mind."

"Never," she whispered. His lips twisted into another grin, which drew her eyes to his mouth. She wanted to feel that mouth on her skin. The silence stretched between them and she dragged her gaze again to his eyes. She couldn't at first identify what she saw in them, but then she realized that he looked smug. For the first time in her existence, she felt a new human emotion – embarrassment. She hadn't meant to stare.

"Come on," he invited. "I'll get you a glass of wine." He turned and led the way to the kitchen. "Dinner isn't quite ready yet. Maybe an appetizer?" She watched him for a moment as he walked away, then followed, not wanting to once more be caught staring.

She was intensely aware of the thin material of her skirt and blouse as they slid against her skin with her movements. She hadn't noticed their feel before he had opened the door; it was an interesting phenomenon. He reached up to retrieve a wineglass and she moved in close behind him, invading his space, reveling in his heat. He lowered his hand, still empty, and turned to face her, which had the effect of pulling the nearly transparent cloth of her blouse and skirt tight across her chest, her hips.

"Appetizer it is…" His voice was lower, as it had been that afternoon. He slid his arms around her, pulled her body flush against his. She smiled, smoothed one finger along his brow before leaning in to kiss him, deeply, hungrily. Then he whirled them both around until she was between him and the counter, lifted her, pushed her onto the cool surface. He followed her, nudged her skirt up around her hips as she wrapped long legs around his waist, bringing her into contact with the erection that already strained against his jeans.

She wanted no food, only Helo, and it seemed that he felt the same.

***

Helo risked a glance at his chrono, hoping that he wasn't too obviously impatient for this meeting to end, yet knowing that Aronson would pick up on it – she always did. She seemed to have some sort of built-in dradis that alerted her to the worst possible time to hand him another assignment.

"Do you have somewhere else you need to be, Agathon?"

Was that a knowing tone in her voice? "No, sir."

She smiled. "Liar. You're meeting Natasi again, aren't you?"

He gave her grin, hopefully of the sheepish variety, rather than of the cocky. "Yeah. In fact, she's supposed to hit my apartment in about ten minutes." He shot a significant look at the stack of dossiers the Captain had placed on the edge of her desk, having just given him orders to read through them and pick the best two candidates for a lecture series on computer technology.

"So when do I get to meet her?"

"What? So you can steal her away from me? I don't think so." Jena Aronson was a beautiful woman, not much older than Helo, and, if things had been different, he would have been interested. Quite aside from the fact that she was a superior officer in his direct chain of command, she preferred women to men; she and Helo had compared notes over beers a time or two.

"How long have you two been seeing each other, anyway?" She sat down behind her desk.

Helo shrugged. "About three weeks."

Three weeks. He hadn't thought it would last three _days_, that the fire between them would quickly burn itself out. Three weeks, and still he knew next to nothing about her, about her life, her past, what she wanted for the future. Natasi knew all about his family, his dreams, how frustrated he was, stuck at FHQ. They had even talked about the fact that he would be leaving sooner rather than later for Caprica and that they might never see each other again. And yet, knowing that what they shared was strictly short term, still she would be waiting for him at his apartment in mere minutes. Three weeks and the fire had only grown more intense. He forcibly stopped himself from fidgeting.

Noticing, Aronson laughed and ordered, "Get out of here, Agathon. Take those home with you." She nodded at the folders.

He didn't have to be told twice. He scooped up the dossiers and all but ran from Captain Aronson's office to his car.

***

Their hearts still racing, lungs still working hard from shared climax, Helo pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, flung an arm up over his head. She felt suddenly bereft, cold, and chided herself for the momentary weakness. She curled into him, telling herself that it was only the draft from the open window that dried the sweat on her skin, that she merely sought the warmth his body provided, that it had nothing to do with the man himself.

She had been warned not to allow these humans to get too close, to draw her in. They, too, were God's children and thus were not to be taken lightly. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she traced a pattern on the smooth skin of his chest, smiled when his nipples tightened from the feather touch.

"Natasi?" His voice resonated through her.

"Hmm…?" She lay her palm flat on his stomach, enjoying the sensation as his muscles tightened beneath her hand.

"Why don't we ever go to your place?"

Something in his voice caused her to go still. "My place?" She levered herself onto her elbow to look at his face, but he wasn't looking at her. He shifted, maneuvering his arm under his head, still staring up at the moonlight that shimmered on the ceiling. Her tiny living space was little more than a temporary gathering place for herself and others of her kind; she couldn't take him to "her" place.

"Yeah. I want to see where you live." A half-smile playing on his lips, he finally looked at her. "I know almost nothing about you." He twined the fingers of his free hand with hers. "I want to know more."

"But there isn't much to tell."

"I don't believe you." He brought her hand up to his lips, kissed her knuckles. "Tell me something about _you_, Natasi. I don't care what."

She had to tell him something, but didn't know what to say. She should have known that he would become curious, that he would ask questions, but she had never planned for this, had thought she could keep him distracted with sex long enough to get onto the base, into the computer systems, to complete her mission. Instead, she had allowed herself to become distracted by his smile, his easy charm, the scent and taste and feel of him when he was inside her…

The silence drew out and she felt him grow tense, knew that he had become truly suspicious. She looked up at his face, saw that he watched her and that he no longer smiled. Copying his earlier gesture, she pulled his hand to her mouth and brushed her lips over his knuckles. "I told you, there isn't much to tell. My… family is a long way from here. My brothers and sisters… Well, they're scattered throughout the Colonies." Close enough to the truth, but revealing nothing.

"Big family then?" It made her nervous to see that he still frowned.

"Yes." A very large family, indeed. Almost desperate to leave this line of conversation, she tugged at his arm, pulled him over to her again, pulled him down for a kiss. Relief washed through her when he allowed himself to be distracted, when he returned the kiss, opened his mouth to let her in.

She had certainly achieved her short-term goal, Helo was hers, but she vowed not to lose sight of her true goal again.

***

"You're late," he observed as he hefted a round red fruit in his hand, as if testing its weight.

The censure in Nine's tone stung. "I'm here." She kept the anger the implied criticism caused out of her voice, but allowed it to blaze from her eyes. Nine took an involuntary step back and she noticed with satisfaction the darker tone to his already dark skin as blood suffused his face.

"Have you anything useful to report?" he asked and the criticism was more obvious. One pale brow rose as she pinned him with her gaze. This time, he held his ground; she respected that.

Unfortunately, she really _had_ nothing useful. Nearly a month with Helo and, while she knew a good deal about the man, she had learned almost nothing about either the inner workings of the Colonial fleet or the humans' defensive systems. He was open about his own life, but let loose nothing about his job, nothing that could further the Cylon cause. She was beginning to believe she had chosen her human contact poorly.

A triumphant expression stole across Nine's face. "You haven't anything, have you? All this time and you have learned exactly nothing."

She blinked several times, bit her tongue against the harsh response she wanted to make, but to which she had no right. "I have learned a good deal about the humans," she began, but he cut her off.

"But nothing about their defenses." A flat statement as he lay the red fruit back on the stack with its brethren. Dark eyes studied her, traveled from head to toe before dismissing her as unworthy, and he turned his attention back to the fruits and vegetables piled on the outdoor stand. "Your mission is to obtain their defensive plans and codes." He speared her with his damning, discerning gaze. "Not to _frak_ their men." He chose a ripe purple fruit, tossed it into the air and caught it again. "I'll tell the others that you have nothing to report." He spun on his heel and walked away, tossing a coin to the stand keeper.

Angry tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them back, took a deep breath. She was meeting Helo for lunch in a matter of minutes and she had to get herself under control before then – the human always saw too much, made her feel too much. Her current state of weakness could no doubt be attributed to him, as well.

Unhappy with Nine, unhappy with herself and her failure, she walked the square, idly peering into shop windows until something within one of the shops snagged her attention. She pushed through the door and a cheerful tinkling sound announced her presence.

A man came out from behind the curtain that acted as a door between the sales area of the small jewelry shop and its back room. "Good morning, miss. May I show you something pretty?" he said with a warm and welcoming smile that she did not return.

"There is a bracelet in your window…"

"Ah, yes. An original Dosani, pure silver and treated to never tarnish." He produced a set of keys from his pocket and approached the window/sales case. "One of a kind." He turned back toward her and she saw that the bracelet he held almost reverently in his hand was exquisite. "If you will allow me…?" He opened it and offered to fasten it about her wrist.

Tentatively, then, she held out her hand and smiled, the beauty of the bracelet pulling her mind away from Nine's harsh attitude. The clasp clicked shut and the cool metal rested against her skin, slowly picking up her warmth. Bright silver, it looked as though white-hot flame wrapped around her wrist as the piece caught the brilliant lights of the showcase.

"It looks like it was made for you," the shopkeeper commented as the bell over the door announced another patron. "If you'll excuse me for a moment…?" When she didn't react, lost in the stark beauty of the human adornment, he left her. She traced one finger over the edges of the bracelet, which was so smooth that, since it had taken on the heat of her wrist, it barely registered to the nerve endings in her fingertip.

She had no idea how much time had passed, lost in thoughts of the decadence of the humans, into which she was being pulled, at the realization that something that was so filled with rot at its core could still produce a thing of such enduring beauty. The merchant returned to her side and shattered the spell. Turning toward him, she began to unfasten it, to give it back and move on to the fountain at the center of the market square, where she was to meet Helo. She was certain that she must be late for that meeting, too.

"Oh, no, miss. It's yours."

Confusion. "Mine?"

"Yes, ma'am. Courtesy of that handsome young man over there." There was a laugh in his voice as he pointed over to a corner of the small shop, to the man in Colonial Fleet uniform that waited there, grinning with satisfaction around a lollipop.

She frowned and Helo came toward her. When he took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, led her toward the door, she asked, "Why?"

Helo shifted the sucker, looking smug, as he had that first day. "Why what? The bracelet? Because you clearly wanted it and I want you to have it." He shrugged. "You hungry?"

"I don't understand."

He took the lollipop from his mouth and waggled it at her. "There's nothing to understand. It's a gift." He dropped a kiss on her forehead and returned the sucker to his mouth. For a moment, irritation began to rise in her breast at being patronized, but then she realized that such was not his intention. This was Helo – he genuinely wanted her to have the bracelet, simply because she wanted it and it was within his power to give it to her.

***

Silence stretched between them, magnified by the clink of metal against ceramic that overlay the soft music that played in the background.

"Is that an ultimatum?" Her voice was harsh.

Helo leaned against the back of his chair, cocked his head, sucked at the inside of his cheek as he thought about all the little things that had begun to bother him about their relationship before he gave her his answer. "Yeah, I guess it is."

He really didn't know why her request to see his office had bothered him so much. Maybe it was just too close to their aborted conversation a few nights ago, when he'd had to drag out of her something so simple as the fact that she had brothers and sisters. Or maybe it was all the changes of subject when he started to get too close to something she didn't want to talk about. For that matter, he didn't know why he wanted – _needed_ – to see where she lived, to put her in some sort of context.

Natasi blinked rapidly and took a sip of wine and he wondered what was going through her head this time, if she was going to make nice again and try to defuse the tension, back away from the argument it seemed he was determined to have. And he _was_ more than willing to have that argument, to break through her sometimes-emotionless façade.

"I told you, Helo, there is nothing to see at my… apartment. Nothing that could possibly interest you."

His frustration grew. "What? Do you live in a box?"

"Do you work in one?" she snapped back.

A bark of laughter escaped him as he lay down his fork, grabbed his glass and swallowed the rest of his drink. "No, Natasi, I don't work in a box." He stood. Perversely, he felt better for having goaded her into an emotional response, even if that emotion was anger. "Look, I have to pick up those papers and get back to work. I'll call you." He motioned the waiter to their table.

"Are you dismissing me?" Her already pale skin had lost all color; she had become a perfect statue, all the vitality in her having drained from her flesh and bone and muscle to pool in her blazing eyes.

Helo just looked at her, feeling cold. "Natasi. We'll talk about this later." The waiter handed him the bill for their meal and quickly left. _Coward._ "This isn't the time or the place."

"Ah, yes. You'll call me."

Her sarcasm stung. He pinned her with his eyes as he lay cubits on the table to pay for their meal. "Have I ever said that I'd do something and then not done it?"

She looked away, down at her empty plate, and toyed with the stem of her wineglass, swirling the blood red liquid round and round. He shook his head, walked away.

***

After glancing first at the sticker on his windshield and them at his identification, the guard waved him onto the base with her usual friendly grin. Helo sped back to his office, the paperwork he had picked up for Aronson ("Oh, come on, Helo, you'll be in the area…") on the seat next to him. _What a frakking waste of an afternoon_, he thought as he pulled into his parking space. He was still pissed at himself for being a bastard toward Natasi at lunch, but there was something going on there, he was sure of it. He didn't know what or how, but he had the distinct feeling that she was playing him.

Running late – the Undersecretary from whom he'd picked up Jena's paperwork had been quite chatty – he swung by the Captain's office and tossed the packet on her desk.

"Now is that any way to deliver official documents to your superior officer?"

"It is today." He turned to leave, not in the mood for another argument, friendly or otherwise.

Jena's laughter stopped him. "You were right to keep her hidden, Agathon. Your Natasi is _gorgeous_."

He stepped back into the room, frowning. "What?"

"She's waiting for you in your office. She called looking for you and, since you weren't back from lunch yet, the call was transferred to me. I told her I didn't know how long you'd be gone, but she said she could entertain herself until you got back." She shrugged. "There wasn't anything sensitive lying around, so I let her in." Something in his face made her falter, her smile fade. "I hope you don't mind."

A vague sense of unease tickled the base of his skull. He knew his tone was distracted when he said, "Why would I mind?" _Why, indeed?_ he thought, playing back in his mind their time together as he walked slowly from Jena's office, almost reluctant to enter his own.

***

Helo's office was halfway down the corridor from Jena's. The door was ajar, the opening just wide enough for him to see the arm of the small couch, a smooth ankle that was all too familiar and, at that moment, not particularly welcome.

The door swung open with a squeal that faded into a light squeak, reminding him for the hundredth time to get the hinges oiled. Natasi looked up from her magazine at the sound, but she had clearly been listening for him, been aware of his approach. She offered him a tentative smile and lay down the magazine, an old _Caprica Today_ that his predecessor had left behind to keep visitors occupied.

"Helo, I'm so sorry for the things I said this afternoon," she said as she rose gracefully to her feet, looking appropriately contrite. "Please forgive me."

_So it's going to be like that, is it?_ he thought. _Kiss and make up?_ Without answering her, he swung the door the rest of the way open and rounded his desk, pulled back the chair. He wanted things to go back to the way they had been between them: simple, no expectations on either side, no strings, the way things always seemed to be for him in his relationships. He didn't like complicated.

"Helo?" She sounded unsure of herself and he didn't know if it was sincere or an act. He wanted to believe her, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was using him.

His foot jostled the computer beneath his desk, which brought the viewscreen to life, something that shouldn't have happened as he'd put it into sleep mode when he'd left for lunch, which required entry of a password to reactivate the system. Helo found himself looking at the last thing he had read before leaving, a profile of Dr. Gaius Baltar of the Caprican Defense Ministry. Dr. Baltar was one of the six men and women remaining in Helo's search for a lecturer and, from what he'd read of the man so far, a certifiable genius in regard to computer programming and technology.

Helo felt as though he'd somehow walked into a dream, standing there staring at that screen, at the smiling face of Dr. Baltar, hearing the reverse squeak-squeal of the door closing and then feeling the out-of-context sensation of Natasi's soft breath at his ear as she whispered, "I'll take you to see where I live, Helo." She nipped at his ear and he closed his eyes, leaned back into her. "Just please, don't be angry anymore…"

The sensation of a waking dream intensified when her arms slid down his chest and the tip of her tongue caressed his ear. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he hadn't shut the computer down, but had only intended to…

Never completely breaking contact with his body, Natasi circled around Helo until she was in front of him, between him and the glowing computer screen. Slowly, a wicked smile spreading across her beautiful face, she hiked up the blue silk of her dress and sat in his lap. He thought he might have stopped breathing.

His blood singing in his ears as it always did at her touch, Helo entertained the thought that maybe he should have someone take a look at his computer, see if there was any sign of tampering, before he stopped thinking at all.

***

Tension coiled through her, straining for release as he thrust harder, faster, the force of it pounding the wooden headboard into the wall (thrust-_crash_, thrust-_crash_). She curled restless fingers around the bars of the headboard, arched her back to take him deeper, cried out in a voice that she didn't recognize as her own ("Oh, God! Helo!") as he drove her over the edge.

There was a sharp cracking sound and Helo cried out wordlessly as he spilled into her, caught in the throes of his own orgasm. His muscles quivered with the strain of not collapsing on top of her and she smiled at the thought that he might physically hurt her, accidentally or otherwise, as something struck her chin, tickled its way down to the hollow at the base of her throat to hover – his dogtags on their silvery chain.

She closed her eyes, reveling in the solid weight of him, her human lover, but then he exerted some effort and rolled them both, until he was on his back and she on top of him. He reached up to smooth her hair from sweaty cheeks and forehead, a serious expression on his face, and for a moment she felt oddly frightened, felt as though she were somehow losing him, but then he smiled at her and the feeling faded, although it didn't leave altogether.

"Damn…" The whisper, combined with the soft motion of the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, caused her to shiver. An aftershock rippled through her and she turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand, then nip at the heel.

The headboard caught her attention and she laughed, still breathless. "I seem to have broken your bed."

Helo shifted, angled his head on the pillow so that he could look at the damage. "So you did," he said with a grin, staring at the splintered spoke. His eyes met hers again. "You hungry?"

His question was a non sequitur, but nevertheless, not unexpected. With a noncommittal shrug she observed, "You're always hungry."

"Not always." He gave her a shove, rolled onto his side so that he could look down at her. "See, there was this incredible woman who just attacked me as I got out of my car. No chance to change clothes…"

"You're not wearing any…"

"No chance to have dinner…"

"I have an idea." She stopped whatever else he might have added to his litany of woes with a fingertip to his lips. "Why don't you bring me dinner in bed?" If he was gone long enough…

"You _broke_ my bed."

"Not relevant."

He sighed and gifted her with another grin. "I could do that." He dropped a kiss on her forehead as he left the bed, picked up his uniform trousers from where they lay on the floor. The dark blue fabric was a stark contrast to his pale skin as he walked out the door.

***

Whistling tunelessly, feeling better than he had in days, ever since that first unsettling argument that had been, on the surface, about her apartment, but was really about keeping secrets, Helo carried a tray that held a plate of fruit and cheese, two wineglasses, and a bottle of white wine into his bedroom. He was hungry, but he hadn't felt like fixing anything more complex than that.

"You don't mind if we don't… have…" His voice trailed away as he stepped into the room to find that Natasi wasn't there. "Natasi?" He frowned, the uneasy feeling he'd had for some time now returned full force. Her dress still lay in a blue puddle of silk on the floor and he told himself she must be in the bathroom; he'd passed it on the way, but hadn't paid attention to whether or not the door was closed.

There wasn't enough clear space on the dresser, so he shoved things aside to make room and lay the tray down. For half a second, he considered grabbing his sidearm from the top drawer, but thought better of it. This was Natasi, for gods' sakes. She might be up to something, but he couldn't believe that she was any real threat to him.

Both doors, office and bathroom, were closed when he peered down the hall. Light leaked from under the bathroom door and he relaxed a bit, feeling both foolish and ashamed of his earlier thought about the gun.

The old workshirt that had been draped over the footboard was gone; Natasi must have put it on. Killing time, he took a look at the damage to the headboard, hung his uniform jacket in the closet, draped Natasi's dress on the footboard where his shirt had been, and poured two glasses of wine. Still, she hadn't returned, but the tension that, during the past week, had taken up residence behind his eyes had.

Helo crossed the hall to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Natasi? You in there?" He knew the answer, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt. When there was no reply, he opened the door, knew even before he saw the empty room that she was in his office, with his computer and his briefcase and the dossiers from FHQ. Why she wanted them was a mystery, but he could think of nothing else she could be after, not after this afternoon. He _had_ locked his computer before he left and she had hacked it.

It took half a dozen steps to reach the door at the end of the hall, a twist of the knob and a shove to open it. And there she was, behind his desk, the small lamp next to the viewscreen the only illumination in the room and not enough of that to have spilled under the door. One of the dossiers from his briefcase was open in front of her and his workshirt was indeed the only thing she wore, fastened by a single button. The slam of the door against the wall and the shock of his sudden and unannounced presence caused her to pull back abruptly, knocking the open briefcase to the floor with a crash and a flutter of papers.

"Helo." Her beautiful eyes were wide and innocent and white-hot anger slammed through him. He knew she realized it as she took another step back from the desk. The expression on her face said that the move was involuntary and uncalculated, but it gave her an almost clear path around the desk to the door, the only obstacle Helo himself. "Please, don't be angry," she said, circling around the desk as he stepped further into the room. Her eyes darted toward the door.

But he had no intention of letting her slip past him. "Why, Natasi?"

"Why?" She took another step toward him. "I…" And another.

"Why use me like this? What're you after?" He looked down at the scatter of papers on the floor. Not one of the men and women in those dossiers possessed any critical military or political information. They were scientists, intellectuals. He looked up again when he realized she was nearly close enough to touch him; he hadn't heard her move in the second his attention had been on the fallen papers. She raised a hand, reached toward him and he said, "Don't touch me."

She stopped, her hand still lifted. Helo reached around her, picked up the wireless handset from the desk, pressed the emergency button that automatically called base security.

"What are you doing, Helo?" He had never heard such a tone from her, hard and cold.

The call rang through immediately. "This is Lieutenant Agathon. I need security dispatched to 310 C, junior officers' housing, immediately." His eyes never left Natasi's and the light in hers darkened into a violent anger as her arm dropped back to her side. "Make sure they're armed." He ended the call, but held onto the handset.

"You shouldn't have done that." Flat, emotionless.

"Oh? Why is that, Natasi?" There was no longer any possibility that their relationship was anything but over; her next words confirmed that.

"I didn't want it to end like this."

And then, with no warning, her hand was at his throat, squeezing hard. Rather than trying to pry her fingers away as his vision began to go white at the edges, Helo slammed the handset he still held into the side of her head with all the strength he could muster.

It was enough. Her deathgrip loosened and he threw himself back, breaking her grip, but she followed him, grabbed his arm before he could get out of range and swung him around. He stepped into the motion, took control of it and stopped himself before she could slam him into the wall. He hit her then, a roundhouse punch that connected with her left cheek. The impact swung her head back, but the blow didn't incapacitate her as he'd hoped.

Instead, she hit him back with the force of a hydraulic hammer; he felt his lip split against his teeth, tasted blood. She came at him again, murder in her eyes where so recently had been passion and he sidestepped her, but not entirely. Between the impetus of his own defensive movement and Natasi's partially deflected charge, Helo hit the corner of the desk hard and pain blossomed in his thigh as he dropped to the floor. She took a step around him and he didn't know if she was coming in for another strike or attempting to escape; either way, he wasn't going to take the chance. He grabbed a slender, bare ankle and jerked.

Natasi hit the floor alongside him, scraping against the desk on her way down. Spinning as she fell, she scrambled away from him, but he didn't let her go. He followed, pushing off the desk, and caught her ankle again as she got to her hands and knees. She twisted to try to kick him in the face and he pulled her under him, sat on her, pinned her to the floor, her hands to either side of her head.

The button had popped off the shirt she wore during their struggle and it now gaped open. Natasi's chest heaved as she pulled in great gulps of air and Helo's eyes were drawn almost of their own will to her exposed breasts. He could hear a siren in the distance, growing louder.

She heard it, too, and bucked up against him, which did neither of them any good. Helo was forcibly reminded of the fact that she was all but naked under him, and, adrenaline still coursing through his body, he felt himself growing hard again. And she knew it, would have tried to take advantage of it had the military police not begun pounding on the door to his apartment.

"Lieutenant!" The man's voice was muffled by the closed door and distance. "Lieutenant Agathon!"

Helo looked down again at Natasi, saw the purpling bruise on her cheek, felt a trickle of blood run down his brow, where she had caught him with the bracelet he'd bought for her – gods, was it only that afternoon? It dripped into his eye and he blinked rapidly to clear it as he shouted, "It's open!" He never took his eyes from hers; he wouldn't make that mistake again. They heard the door crash open and the pounding of feet through the living room and kitchen. "In back!" he shouted again, and she glared at him and tried to break free.

Two armed guards rushed into the room and Helo finally released Natasi's wrists, pushed himself up from the floor. One of the guards reached down to help her up while the other kept his rifle trained on her head, taking no chances.

"Helo, I love you." She sounded hurt. "How can you throw away what we had?"

Incredulous, Helo laughed, harsh, bitter. "What we _had_? There was never any love between us, Natasi. What we had was sex. You used me, but it ends here."

She straightened, then, as the guard fastened her slender wrists into cuffs. Her smile was chilling. "You're wrong, Helo. This is just the beginning."

"Get her out of here." He wiped at the blood on his face as the guards led her away.

***

The rain came down and down and the smell of cordite and burning plastic permeated the already thick air. The downed Colonial pilot was very near, she knew. He had taken out another of her Centurions, but it would be his last. Although he wasn't aware of it, and wouldn't appreciate the honor being accorded him if he knew, he was important to the Cylons, important to their plans for the future.

She had been dispatched to take him in hand, keep him in place until the chosen one arrived. Her lip curled in an involuntary sneer. _She_ should be the one, not _her_. Hadn't she already sacrificed much in the furtherance of their goals? What had this other done? Nothing. Nothing at all. Merely accepted the memories of another, that had been uploaded to the collective from the remains of the Colonial Fleet, without that other's knowledge.

In the distance, she saw the muzzle-flash of a human handgun, heard the report of the shots. There were seven of them, as the human unloaded his clip in his fear. She walked through the forest toward the flash and sound, a Centurion by her side. She motioned for it to go ahead of her and take the human.

As she approached at her leisure, she saw her escort turn its firearm on the human, saw him raise his hands above his head and turn. She stopped and the man's eyes were inexorably drawn to her, bright white against the sodden green of the Caprican forest. She watched from a distance as the Centurion cuffed him and put a bag over his head, another of her orders, intended to keep him off balance.

The Centurion led him to a fallen tree, pushed him down onto it, and backed away. She allowed him to sit for several minutes, knowing that his fear would grow as he had time to think. It gave her time to study him.

He wore the flight suit of a Colonial Raptor pilot and the body beneath that suit presented a defeated aspect. But looks could be deceiving, she well knew, especially where humans were concerned. This one had destroyed several of their patrols since the day humanity's children had come home. He was resourceful in the face of adversity and overwhelming odds and those qualities – along with the reported capacity for self-sacrifice that had seen him left here on a blasted planet – were what they wanted from him. She smiled slowly. _That and his genetic material._

Curious, she came to him, pulled the sack from his head. The suddenness of the move, the return of light, however watery that light might be, made him blink repeatedly, attempting to adjust his eyes to the change. She went very still when she saw his face. She watched him, her gaze intent, devouring. His hazel eyes were clouded, and yet... Was that a glimmer of recognition? He was sick and weaker than she'd ever seen him, wet and cold, but underneath the utter exhaustion in those eyes that had always seen too much was the spark of defiance that she remembered so well, something that had been missing in her Gaius.

Recalling the day she first saw him, she asked, "Are you alive?"

He hesitated before answering, his response disappointing. "Agathon, Karl C. Lieutenant, Junior Grade, Colonial Fleet PK 789934…"

"I know who you are, Helo. It's all right. I'm a friend." She kissed him then. She brought up a hand to cup his cheek, startled at the heat of his skin, realizing that he burned with fever. He began to kiss her back almost instinctively. She thought, _She isn't good enough for him. Helo is mine. She can't ha—_

There was a sudden burning in the center of her back and a sensation of falling forever. ssssssssssssssssssssss… She heard his voice. "Sharon?!" ssssssssssssssssssssss… "What are you doing here?" ssssssssssssssssss…

_Begin data upload..._


End file.
